“What: correct?”
“The old Taiwanese man is alive, right? A stubbing is a serious violence, but no fatality. So we must call an investigator from the Station. Our Standard Operational Procedure, remember?”
“It's much worse than that.”
“Much worse? You are saying the old man is dead? Well, what are they freaking unhappy about? If somebody dies from a gut-driver – it's hardly a death of a natural cause. The Coroner is not required; must call the Homicide Unit, period. I did everything right!”
“Much worse than that, partner!”
“OK, tell me.”
“Aha! Our Sherlock-Holmes-on-wheels can't guess!”
“First, your Sherlock-Holmes-on-wheels can't do magic. To make a guess, I need information. Second, I believe the case is very darn simple. Victor Chen thinks his father is dead, but the old man is just knocked down. While Victor runs to the Beat, the old man comes to senses and goes to find a doctor. After that, we have a bunch of possibilities: he dies before reaching the medic, he reaches the medic, but dies anyway, or he is OK. Don't ask me what is more probable: it depends on the position and depth of the wound and other such medical stuff. But I can't see any other possibility.”
“Much worse than that! Admit, Holmes, you are totally stumped.”
“OK, I am stumped. But not totally, only from below. Stop teasing me.”
“Victor Chen insists there has been no dead body whatsoever. More or less – a hallucination.”
“What?” Good I am stumped from below, or I would break the roof of our shack with my head. “What do you mean: hallucination? What about the freaking gut-driver? What about the freaking rag? With all the freaking blood on it?”
“Keep munching, Road Runner. If you talk too much, I will eat all the daikon myself. The freaking gut-driver and the bloody rag – that's all the evidence we have.”
“What about the blood drops Tan noted on the floor? Also, – a hallucination?”
“Yep, ma'am. There were no drops.”
“About Victor Chen – he could be on drugs. But about Tan, so far, I presumed he's not using any.”
“In our Beat, only one person is using drugs so far. No finger-pointing.”
“Now you stop being silly. The Grass isn't ‘drugs’. It's a medicine. And I have a good reason.”
“OK, I am not silly. Of course, I am no expert, like some records clerks… No finger-pointing… But I am sure your To-Ma-Gochi can't create this type of hallucinations. To see a dead body, somebody must use some very serious stuff: synthetic drugs or magic mushrooms. If our client was using something like this just before coming to the Beat, we would see at least some symptoms. Besides, I am not aware of any magic mushrooms that can make the imaginary gut-driver real.”
“Your reference to the mushrooms gives me an idea.”
“Let me guess. Sherlock Holmes needs his pipe.”
“Yes, but a bit later. After we start on our coffee and brownies. Do you mind if I finish the curry? Your Mom is so good at cooking, I'm jealous. Meanwhile, dear Watson, tell me all from the beginning, with no omissions.”
“OK, Holmes. We arrived to China-Patch Five at 17:28. I checked the time on my phone, for the records. Opened the shack door, looked inside. Naturally, I didn't allow Victor to come in. In the shack, everything was in relative order, nothing unusual. No dead body either. Suddenly, Victor Chen said: ‘Sorry. It’s my mistake.’ Exactly these words.”
“OK. Next?”
“I said: ‘But you came yourself to report that your father is dead, is that right?’ And he said: ‘No. My father is not dead. My mistake. Sorry.’ At this point, the Homicide Unit arrived. Four of them: Woxman, ‘Python’ Tom from the CSI lab, and two brand-new trainees. Those two, I didn't see before. So Woxman said: ‘Very well, gents. Where is our patient?’ He was playing this super-duper-expert type, very important man. For that I said: ‘Our patient suddenly felt better, professor. He got up and walked away. Did not bother to wait for your consultation.’ I just couldn't hold it!”
“Nice!”
“Nice, but I'd better keep my mouth shut. Python, with his natural nerdy sense of humor, but limited social awareness, started laughing like mad. His Royal Highness Woxman, with no sense of humor whatsoever, went bananas. He was showing off in front of the bloody trainees, of course. Bang! And the circus started: Woxman shouts, the trainees in panic! He sends them to check the rest of the Patch-Five and look for possible witnesses. Then he jumps on Victor Chen: ‘Where is the freaking body?’ Chen repeats like a freaking robot: ‘My father is not dead. My mistake. Sorry.’ Woxman jumps on me: ‘Deputy Kim, have you taken a written statement at the Beat? No? Damn! Why not?’ Circus! I have no other word for it.”
“It was my advice to skip the statement and go straight to Chen's place. I screwed up.”
“No, you didn’t. Who would know the body was going to disappear? To make the things even worse, Tan arrived to the scene. He went to call you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Woxman jumped on Tan: ‘Deputy Tan, why did you leave the crime scene unguarded?’ So Tan said: ‘Do you watch detective movies, sir? Once in a while, on TV? At the crime scenes, you know, there should be so-called traces of those crimes, right? Let say, a couple of dead bodies lying around, or a bag full of money, or, perhaps, a nuclear bomb with big red numbers rolling on display, something along these lines. If I saw a nuke, I would guard it! For all the remaining seconds, sir! But in this case, there was absolutely nothing. I made a little loop, asked some kids, if they saw anything out of the ordinary – still nothing. So I decided the Dispatch sent me an incorrect address. Went to double-check it, that's all.”
“Guarding the nuke! For all the remaining seconds, sir! You, boys, have a conspiracy against Woxman, do you? But technically Tan is completely right. If you are directed to the crime scene, but there is no crime, the first thing you assume is an error in the text message.”
“He's technically right, but it's still against the standard procedures. When they wrote those procedures, nobody thought that half of the area would have no cell phone coverage.”
“OK. What happened next?”
“Next, the trainees came back. Nothing. Woxman said: ‘Must be a mistake, then. Nothing to investigate, let's go back to the Station.’ But Tom meanwhile opened the evidence bag and sprayed the corner of the rag with Luminol. He pulled his jacket over his head and lit his magic flash-light. So he said: ‘Not so fast, Deputy Woxman. The blood seems to be real.’ Then Tan recalled some little blood spots at the floor. Tom pulled on his coverall and went into the shack. Came back and said: ‘No visible blood, but Luminol shows some traces.’ He believed there was blood, but somebody wiped it clean.”
“Very interesting,” I pour myself coffee and start rolling my To-Ma-Gochi. Who cares what my in-law thinks about three a day.
“Well, Python did the proper search. He is a good reptile, cold-blooded, not like Woxman. But he got out of the shack totally disappointed. Besides the wiped traces of blood on the floor, he said, – nothing certain. A lot of fingerprints, of course, but looks like all of them belong to the owners. He will double-check in his lab, along with the gut-driver and the rag. Do I get some coffee too?”
I pick blackened coffee pot, “Don't forget the brownie. What Woxman decided at the end?”
“Woxman scratched his head and said: ‘Fine. Lock the shack, Mister Victor Chen goes with us to the Station, tomorrow we will look for the body.’”
“I obviously have to ask this. Mister Chen Te-Sheng himself. The old man. Is he a real person, or a hallucination?”